


Oh, I just died in your arms tonight (or close enough anyways)

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, dallon is captain jack harkness, i blame this one on dallon's snapchat, in that he just Can't Stay Dead, sorry - Freeform, that is literally all the story in this and i gave it away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8066845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The thing was, Dallon thought, as he regained consciousness again after death, that while his condition made for amazing snapchat stories, it was the sort of condition that was hard to explain to your freaked out not quite boyfriend yet.“I realise that this is not the best moment or you, but could you hand me my phone?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a fun conversation about dallon's snapchat and turned into "yo what if dallon were like captain jack harkness? i'm gonna write it!"
> 
> Attention: explaining Why and How Dallon’s condition works was too much backstory, so I just left it out. please interpret whatever you want (mutants? aliens? whatever works for you). as to when this is supposed to take place? tbh idgaf. also, I know that there are no snapchat notifications when someone uploads a story but psht. creative liberties were taken.

The first time Dallon died, he was nine years old and had just climbed the highest tree in the park on a dare, only to find that climbing up was not the hard part, climbing down again was. It had been just in that moment, that his friends heard their mother call for them. 

              “Don’t worry, we’ll tell your mum where you are! Sorry, we gotta go!” Benny yelled, looking up to where Dallon was sitting in the tree.

              “It’s fine. But please tell my mum to hurry, okay?” Dallon shouted down.

              With a “We will!” thrown over their backs, Benny and Sue were off to the open space in the park, where both mothers were waiting for them.

              With nothing to do except wait, Dallon looked up. He was sitting high up, but still a fair bit below the actual tree top. He started to wonder, since he’d already gotten as far as he had, why not go for it?  This was the tallest tree in the park, and even Sue had only climbed the second tallest, a big, old, sturdy oak he could see from where he sat right now. He imagined his friend’s face when he told her that he beat her to the actual tree top and made up his mind. Pulling himself up by an overhead branch, Dallon carefully started climbing again.

              “Dallon!” That was his mother’s voice.

              “I’m up here!” Dallon answered, slowly twisting around so he could look down to her. “I’m just trying to get all the way to the top! Sue’s gonna turn green like the Hulk when she hears!”

              His mother’s shoulders rose and fell, she had probably sighed. “I thought you had trouble getting back down, why are you climbing further up?”

              Dallon shifted his weight and twisted around a bit more on the branch he was standing at with his right foot. The sole of his trainers made a squeaking sound, wet rubber against wood. He didn’t want his mum to get annoyed at his antics, he just needed to explain to her and she’d understand.

              “Look, I just need t– “

              Dallon’s shoe slipped from the branch. His grip on the other one was not tight enough and he realised, as if in slow motion, that he was going to fall. As he fell, head first, he also realised that it was going to hurt. Dallon had broken a bone before during a skiing accident, but the impact hurt far worse than any broken bone ever could. Dallon’s neck gave a nasty crack and the boy tried to scream in pain, aware of his mother rushing towards him, but everything turned to blackness as he passed out in a crumpled heap under the tree.

              “ –llon!” Somebody was calling his name. Dallon groaned in pain.

              “Oh, thank everything! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been a carrier!” His mother’s hands were fluttering all over his face, stroking his cheeks and smoothing down his hair. She was rambling, which she only did when she was nervous, and casting glances over her shoulder every now and then. He noticed all of this through what seemed like a layer of cotton wrapped around his senses.

              “I fell.” Dallon murmured. He started to sit up.

              Soft, strong hands gripped his arms, helping him up and gathering him into a hug, the scent of his mother’s shampoo familiar and relaxing.

              “You did, honey.” His mother whispered. Once he felt like he could sit on his own, Dallon gently pushed at her shoulders so he could look at her face. Her eyes, the same dark grey as his, were shining with worry, relief and something else he could not quite place. 

              “I fell.” He repeated. Through the confusion one thought clawed its way to the forefront of his brain – the sickening snap he had felt in his neck –  brought with it panic crawling up his throat and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

              “Ssht, my boy.” His mother hugged him once more, pressing reassurances into his hair until he calmed down again. Face pressed into her shoulder, Dallon took a few deep breaths.

              “I don’t understand.” Dallon croaked, the sound muffled against his mother’s shoulder.

              “I know. Let’s go home, there’s a lot we need to talk about.”

 

*~+-_-+~*

 

              The second time Dallon died he was 15 and did not freak out quite as much. Though he learned that waking up underwater with his lungs burning was equally as unpleasant as snapping his neck. After spending an extraordinary amount of time explaining to his friends how there was air trapped beneath the older wooden structures at the shore – which was of course, complete bullshit – and that’s where he had hidden for a bit to give them a fright, they finally let it go. Only to bring it up later at Dallon’s place, when they’d settled on the couch for pizza and a movie.

              “But really, Dal, that prank was way overboard, like, you fucking scared us, man!” Sue jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. Dallon tried to squirm away, but with Benny on the other side he had nowhere to run.

              “What prank would that be?” Dallon’s mother was standing in the doorway, smiling at the three teenagers.

              As Sue and Benny launched into a detailed retelling of this afternoon, Dallon shouted at himself internally for being so careless. Daring to look into his mother’s face, he gulped. He could already smell the lecture she’d give him once the siblings had gone home for the night.

 

*~+-_-+~*

 

              “You are such a dork.” Brendon laughed from the passenger seat, his phone in his hand.

              “Huh?” Dallon asked intelligently, not taking his eyes off the road. They were on their way back from dinner – which might have been a date but Dallon was still too scared to ask, not wanting to screw up the comfortable…whatever that had grown between them.

              “Someone tweeted a collage of your Snapchat stories at us,” Brendon replied. “I still don’t know what the deal with you pretending to be dead on Snapchat is but not gonna lie, it is funny. In a super dorky way.”

              Swallowing, Dallon shifted his hands on the wheel. What had started as a silly one-time idea had quickly grown out of proportion, no thanks to his clumsiness which he’d never outgrown. Taking a fun snap after dying had seemed innocent enough, except he found now that every time Brendon mentioned them, he just wanted to tell him everything.

              “Hey,” Brendon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts as he put his hand on Dallon’s arm. “You know I mean that in a super nice and positive way, right?”

              Dallon could feel the warmth of Brendon’s hand spread over his arm and cleared his throat. “Of course, yeah, obviously.”

              “You are my favourite dork after all.” Brendon was grinning, but his look was warm and soft. Dallon was glad that he could only risk one glance before he turned his attention back to the dark road. If he’d looked at Brendon longer, he might have done something incredibly risky. This way, he only had his racing heart to deal with.

              “And yet you keep mocking me.” He sighed dramatically, as he pulled into Brendon’s driveway, making the other chuckle. As Brendon turned to open his seatbelt, he suddenly groaned. “Aw shit, I completely forgot about the electrician.”

              “Something wrong?”

              “Nothing major, just one of the ceiling lights that stopped working and I can’t see enough on top of the ladder to try anything myself.” Brendon sighed. “Whatever, it’s one light, I’ll survive.”

              Dallon considered his options for a second, before he decided that it was safe enough to ask: “I could try? If you’d like, that is.”

              With a relieved smile, Brendon nodded. “I’d appreciate that a lot, thank you.”

              They got out of the car, made a detour to the garage for a ladder and then went inside. As Brendon turned on the ceiling lights in the living room, Dallon could immediately see the dark spot where the light didn’t turn on. Worried it might fall out of his back pocket and break, Dallon put his phone on the marble counter close to the broken light. Brendon put the ladder underneath the spot, while Dallon turned on the other lights in the living room and turned the ceiling lights back off before scaling the ladder. He’d learned his lesson after death number five, or maybe six, it was hard to keep track.

              “Here you go.” Brendon handed him the flashlight and a screwdriver. Their hands met in the middle, and Dallon noticed once more how warm Brendon was to the touch.  “The screwdriver may not be sonic, but maybe you can still use it.”

              “Are you trying to make fun of me for being a nerd as well today?” Dallon grinned down at the other to mask the flush in his face from the casual touch. Brendon just rolled his eyes and went back to holding the ladder steady.

              Looking at it retrospectively, it had been a fucking stupid thing to do and he really should have known better, but Dallon had seen something stuck in the socket and wanted to pry it loose.  The electrical shock itself hadn’t even hurt that much, but it had surprised him enough to flinch back. Dallon lost his balance and once again, like in slow motion, he could feel himself fall. He looked at Brendon, expression changing from surprise to concern. Then he remembered the marble kitchen counter behind him. The last thing he said before his head connected with the unforgiving corner of said counter was short and to the point.

              “Fuck.”

 

*~+-_-+~*

 

              The thing was, Dallon thought, as he regained consciousness again after death, that while his condition made for amazing snapchat stories, it was the sort of condition that was hard to explain to your freaked out not quite boyfriend yet. He groaned, more embarrassment than pain, though his head was still throbbing from the impact. To be quite honest, Dallon had expected to find Brendon spewing more curse words in a second than he could think of in a minute, but when he opened his eyes, he thought that maybe this time he’d gone and died for real. Gently stroking the sides of his face, Brendon was crouching over him, tears still slipping from his brown eyes.

              “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not as bad as it looks?” He croaked and Brendon’s eyes widened fractionally as a sob escaped his lips.

              “What the fuck, I don’t fucking understand what the fuck? I checked and your pulse–“  Another sob cut off Brendon’s frantic rambling and he pressed his lips together.

              “I realise that this is not the best moment for you, but could you hand me my phone?” Dallon asked, making grabby motions with his hands. Visibly overwhelmed, Brendon just handed him the small device from the kitchen counter. His hands were shaking and he started mumbling again.

              “Shit shit, I’m sorry, I should have called an ambulance, fuck.”

              “No, no,” Dallon reassured him as he unlocked his phone and tapped the Snapchat icon, “It’s okay, I’m fine.” He quickly took a picture of himself, used the paint tool to place two crosses over his eyes and added his artistic masterpiece to his story. He hadn’t considered Brendon’s phone, which pinged shortly after he hit send. He watched Brendon’s face as he pulled out his phone, and could see the exact moment the worry and panic made way to anger.

              “What! The! Fuck!” Brendon looked at him like he was crazy. “You hit your head so hard you’re bleeding! Your pulse stopped, don’t try to fucking tell me it didn’t because I felt it! And you make a fucking Snapchat story?” Dallon opened his mouth, but Brendon wasn’t done yet. “No, shut the fuck up. I thought you were fucking gone, I thought I’d fucking lost you!” By now the anger was making way to panic again, and Dallon quickly pushed himself up in a sitting position to face Brendon.

              “Hey, hey.” He said in a low voice. Slowly he put his hands on Brendon’s shoulders and when the other didn’t flinch away, he started rubbing slow circles up and down the arms. “I’m here, see? I’m up and breathing.” Sliding his right hand down, he grabbed Brendon’s left with it, guiding it to his chest. Pressing it over his heart, he hoped that feeling his heartbeat would calm Brendon down. Grey eyes met brown. “See? Beating just fine.” Dallon said with a small smile.

              Suddenly the hand over his heart grabbed a fistful of his shirt, shaking slightly. There were no fresh tears falling from Brendon’s eyes, but he was still welling up.

              He punched Dallon’s chest twice, each punch accentuated by the words: “You. Fucker.” Brendon angrily wiped at his face with his free hand. “You owe me an explanation, and it better be a good one. Else you can forget your after-date kiss. Or any dates after this one.”

              Despite his nervousness at having to explain the weirdness that was his condition, Dallon couldn’t keep the big smile off his face.

              “So, it was a date?”

              “Of course it was, you dork. Now get talking.”

              So Dallon did.


End file.
